“Not Quite…” By Ruixue

A quote “Where I’m from everyone’s a hero” is becoming more and more hailed — after tragedies that shook the country. And such tragedies always bring the best in people or a race. We learn to extend a hand, we make sacrifices, or just simply find ways to help others survive the day.

The quote is really inspiring and it’s what my country needs. The thing is, I can’t fully embrace this idea because we have been sunk for a long time — long before Ondoy’s wrath. And what good is a hero, if one cannot save himself or herself?

I think we, as a nation, still have this romantic idea of heroism. One has to die. One has to win a battle (or a boxing tournament and singing contest). One has to leave the country and endure being alone in a foreign land. One has to be recognized by the entire world. One has to be kidnapped. And other things that would seamlessly fit the plot of Kill Bill 3.

To cut to the chase, I’d rather hear these quotes from my country in the near future:

- Where I’m from, everyone knows how to fall in line.

- Where I’m from, everyone knows how to clean their mess.

- Where I’m from, everyone knows how to lead and follow.

- Where I’m from, everyone knows how to respect each other.

- Where I’m from, everyone knows how to truly speak and listen.

I’d rather have an entire generation of these people than a handful of dead heroes dying in vain.

This is a generalization that probably isn’t important (anymore), but it was a question that was brought up to me last month by two people who weren’t Filipino-American. I had a tough time answering them, but I tried to anyway.

One of them is a very close friend of mine who is Chinese-American. We started talking about Asians in America and how we as a minority group in America are struggling with the negative stereotypes that confront us. And then we started to talk about our differences under the umbrella of “Asian-Americans.” Which is when she asked me about her observation that Filipinos dress predominantly more “urban” or “hip-hop” than other Asian-Americans, which I also believed to be true.

Ironically, at that time I had started reading a book called “Filipino-American Psychology” so I merely regurgitated what I learned from the book.

In it, the author gives statistics on Filipino-Americans in comparison to our fellow Asian-American counterparts. Among the many, i’d like to point out a few that resonated with me:

1) Filipino-American households on average have lower incomes than other Asian-American households.

2) Filipino-American youth have higher high school drop-out rates than other Asian-American households.

3) Filipino-Americans are more susceptible to stroke, diabetes, and heart disease than other Asian-Americans.

So I told her that, given this data, I can only assume that because hip-hop at the time of my generation’s upbringing was sending messages of poor neighborhoods, teen pregnancies, drugs, and gangs, Filipino-Americans who were going through these same situations felt welcomed by the art. I also told her that I didn’t have many Chinese/Japanese/Korean/Indian friends at that time, and that although society was telling me I was “Asian,” I didn’t feel like it because I felt I had more in common with Mexican and African American youth. I know there is more to it than that, but it is a domino effect that is probably more complicated than i’d like to dig in to. I should though, I know.

The second and final person who posed this question to me was an African-American studying “Filipinos and hip-hop” for a school project. She made the observation that Filipinos in particular have become integral parts of hip-hop today. From the Black Eyed Peas, America’s Best Dance Crew, and DJ Qbert probably being the most iconic of Filipino Hip-Hop in American society.

I believe this stems from that crucial era of hip-hop in the 90’s when “gangster rap” had emerged from both coasts of the United States, coasts where most Filipino-American youth resided in, even to this very day. And then piggy backing on what I noted earlier, the statistics that bring Filipino-Americans closer to their Latino and African American counterparts than our Asian-American ones.

Looking back at my life, all the rap music I appreciated, and all the clothes I wore that depicted my love for rap, I realized 2 things:

1) That like most people, in the midst of trying to “fit in”, I also felt welcomed by hip-hop.

2) Who you are and what you believe defines you at any given moment in your life is dependent on what people see when they look at you, what you see in yourself, and lastly, how deep you want to dig in order to find out who you really are.

So who am I today? Im a Filipino-American blogger whose style is rooted in hip-hop. But tonight, i’ll be rockin it out watching Parokya ni Edgar, Kamikaze, and Gloc-9 blast their music in Tagalog.

So who will I be tomorrow?

The answer to that question is and always will be, up to me.

My girlfriend, Angel Locsin, is nominated for an international Emmy award for best performance by an actress. I knew she could do it, I keep telling her all time, geeze, but she never listens.

Anyway, you go girl! I mean, yeah, honey go get ‘em.

(Photos from our album her website)

That’s one good, good-looking couple.

(Cory addition by PL&R)

By Dennis Villegas

“It makes for a fascinating sight - but yet something that is deeply disturbing.

Some of the boys are aged ten to seventeen and they admit ingesting the dirty waters every time they dive. I found some of them are already coughing blood–which may already be a sign of tuberculosis or even lead poisoning. And again no amount of health warnings can prevent these boys from enjoying the only game they can afford. Each of them take turns diving from the dizzying height amidst their peers’ shouting, clapping, laughing, and coughing.”

From Dennis Villegas’ “The Diving Boys of Quezon Bridge.”